I am a prisoner of dreams. My thoughts, stripped from time, drift me into shadowed corners. The gray and white melt from day, opening at night where eyes are teased by desert spirits. The rocks of memories are filled with ancient colors. Rivers pull at me, oceans lick my ankles. My voice is underwater, agonizing … More UNDERWATER
It’s where the earth intersects with clear geometric lines. Grand dominant swaths of fields flowing with wheat, gold and majestic, swimming lazily under a deep blue sky. Oceans of wheat, their tops waving in rhythm toward a distance far beyond. Buried deep below are the remnants of ancient rivers and lakes, feeding to … More AMBER SEAS
It’s a wilderness upriver where sounds become trapped and lights attempt to block out the fear of night. Loud music dispels the spirits of silence while gossipers gather in corners overlooking their own sins; a few of the faithful squeeze some sense from a hymnal. A smokescreen of shadows suggests the passing of anxious … More DOWNTOWN TURNING
Rain waxes the sidewalk to an earthly shine. Black clouds spell out a beating. Rivers open their mouths. Streams pray to grow. Umbrellas begin to appear, preparing to spring into action. Women begin to hurry for cover. Men walk as if the sun were shinning. Kids splash the anger out of puddles. Eyes look down … More CLEANING UP
The sidewalk is a stream, a playground, an escape without arrows to point the way out. Fallen stars, the scattering of dreamers believing in second chances, light the city at night. Children remain close by, guarded by the fences of stern warnings. Their visions asleep as they accept the ideas of less. Surrounding aromas are … More NOT FAR FROM HERE
When you go somewhere as a stranger you can blend in as an unaware traveler avoiding name introduction or needless small talk while roaming unconcerned regarding schedules wearing your favorite shirt and red sneakers free of critical opinion you pass a store window and smile back at yourself then merge with the shadows of a … More TEMPORARY NOBODY
Industry. Merrimack River. Red brick factories. Wallpaper sweat. Stained hats. Greasy fingers. Oiled boots. Gloves soaked in time. Mixed aromas. Twelve hour shifts. Five minute breaks. Bag lunches. Overalls with snaps. Tattoos with faces. Eyes glasses smeared. Black acne spots. Machines crunching. Narrow walkways. Wooden floors. Noise upon noise. Laboring fans. Glass transoms. Metal chips. … More Lowell, Massachusetts, 1937
He was a stranger to most. Few knew his name. He stood full. Broad shoulders. A man without a boyhood. Capable hands scared from hard work. He was between young and old. Thick wavy hair. Wire rimmed glasses; searching, curious eyes. Goodness in his voice. Mountains climbed and rivers explored. No mention of family no … More A GREAT TREE
His guitar had a better voice and face. He played out the words like a sweet dessert. Pain and loss was his shirt and untied shoes, pasted to a long and light frame. He washes his beard in the rain. Clouds are his blankets and the ground his pillow where dreams fade away. There’s a … More WITHOUT HOME
Water. An ancient sound. A motion, falling, moving, Colliding, turning. A color with aroma. Bending in search of a lower level. Respecting the language of gravity, yielding to its pull. Shorelines hold back aggressive waters. Mountains remain safe. Valleys fear the worst. Rivers build like armies from the smallest of streams, following paths … More TURNING THE CORNER
Roger Singer 